David, a harmless Fabrikator. Today, the note had said. What had it meant?
“I’ll ask you again, priest. What is this? Why are my friends in custody? Why are they bleeding ?”
“These are not your friends. A plot has been discovered to bring the White Cathedral down around our very ears.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You saw the boy’s insolence today—”
“Is that the problem? He doesn’t tremble properly in your presence?”
“The issue here is treason!” He drew a small canvas pouch from his robes and held it out, letting it dangle from his fingers. I frowned. I’d seen pouches like that in the Fabrikator workshops. They were used for—
“Blasting powders,” the Apparat said. “Made by this Fabrikator filth with materials gathered by your supposed friends.”
“So David made blasting powders. There could be a hundred reasons for that.”
“Weapons are forbidden within the White Cathedral.”
I arched a brow at the rifles currently pointed at Mal and my Grisha. “And what are those? Ladles? If you’re going to make accusations—”
“Their plans were overheard. Stand forward, Tamar Kir-Bataar. Speak the truth you’ve discovered.”
Tamar bowed deeply. “The Grisha and the tracker planned to drug you and take you to the surface.”
“I want to return to the surface.”
“The blasting powders would have been used to ensure that no one followed,” she continued, “to bring down the caverns on the Apparat and your flock.”
“Hundreds of innocent people? Mal would never do that. None of them would.” Not even Zoya, that wretch. “And it doesn’t make any sense. Just how were they supposed to drug me?”
Tamar nodded to Genya and the tea that sat beside us.
“I drink that tea myself,” Genya snapped. “It isn’t laced with anything.”
“She is an accomplished poisoner and liar,” Tamar replied coldly. “She has betrayed you to the Darkling before.”
Genya’s fingers clenched around her shawl. We both knew there was truth in the charge. I felt an unwelcome prickle of suspicion.
“You trust her,” Tamar said. There was something strange in her voice. She sounded less like she was issuing an accusation than a command.
“They were only waiting to stockpile enough blasting powder,” said the Apparat. “Then they intended to strike, to take you aboveground and give you up to the Darkling.”
I shook my head. “You really expect me to believe that Mal would hand me over to the Darkling?”
“He was a dupe,” said Tolya quietly. “He was so desperate to free you that he became their pawn.”
I glanced at Mal. I couldn’t read his expression. The first real sliver of doubt entered me. I’d never trusted Zoya, and how well did I really know Nadia? Genya—Genya had suffered so much at the Darkling’s hand, but their ties ran deep. Cold sweat broke out on my neck, and I felt panic pull at me, fraying my thoughts.
“Plots within plots,” hissed the Apparat. “You have a soft heart, and it has betrayed you.”
“No,” I said. “None of this makes sense.”
“They are spies and deceivers!”
I pressed my fingers to my temples. “Where are my other Grisha?”
“They have been contained until they can be properly questioned.”
“Tell me they are unharmed.”
“See this concern for those who would wrong her?” he asked of the Priestguards. He’s enjoying this , I realized. He’s been waiting for it. “This is what marks her kindness, her generosity.” His gaze locked on mine. “There are some injuries, but the traitors will have the best of care. You need only say the word.”
The warning was clear, and finally I understood. Whether the Grisha plot was real or some subterfuge invented by the priest, this was the moment he had been hoping for, the chance to make my isolation complete. No more visits to the Kettle with Genya, no more stolen conversation with David. The priest would use this chance to separate me from anyone whose